Vulcan Justice
by MarieKR
Summary: A simple, biological fact leaves Kirk dead, and Spock must make amends... (Amok Time rewrite/Pon Farr fic. NO SLASH.)
1. Girlfriends with Plomeek Soup

"Lieutenant, what are you doing?"

It wasn't often that something made Nyota Uhura jump, and it was even less often that she was seen walking down the officer's hallway with a dinner tray in hand — especially not post-shift and in comfy, non-regulation attire. Kirk reached out and grabbed the side of the tray, steadying it.

"Thank you, Captain," she said, blushing slightly, glancing down and away from him and shifting the tray as though she could hide her soft purple pajama top and pants behind it. "Spock hasn't been eating lately; I thought I'd bring him some —"

"—Plomeek soup. Yeah, I can smell it." Kirk wasn't exactly fanatical about the Vulcan dish; something about it turned his stomach. His first officer liked it fine, though, so he wasn't about to argue if the Vulcan would eat it. "Spock okay?"

"I'm not sure," she replied. "He could just be in one of his more contemplative moods, but then, he's been almost…nervous, even abrasive the past few days." Uhura frowned slightly, and Kirk cocked his head to the side, thinking.

"Let me go in with you; I've been meaning to ask him something anyway."

"Yes, Captain," the lieutenant replied, ignoring the odd picture they made. Together they walked the rest of the way down to Spock's quarters and let themselves in — apparently Uhura had free access to his quarters, a fact that didn't particularly surprise Kirk, given the relationship between the two of them.

The Vulcan's room was even hotter than normal, it seemed, and darker as well, something that fit perfectly with the expression on the First Officer's face as the door slid shut behind Kirk and Uhura. Normally, Spock's eyebrows angled down in a way that gave the impression of a constant, yet oddly impassive scowl. Kirk had to wonder if the other Spock always looked so intimidatingly angry. Today, however, that scowl was genuine in the extreme, and grew deeper as the moments slid by.

"What are you doing here?" Spock demanded, no trace of politeness or respect in his tone.

"I thought you'd be hungry, Spock, so I—" Uhura gasped to a stop and flinched as Spock crossed to her with one long step and snatched the tray from her hands, throwing it across the room. The bowl shattered, leaving a dark purple stain dripping down the wall, and the tray fell to the dirty floor with a clatter.

"It is inappropriate for a woman to play servant to a man that is not her own," he shouted, looming over her. "You will leave!" Shaking, tears sparkling in her dark eyes, the lieutenant cast a frightened look from Spock to Kirk and back again, then fled the room.

"What the HELL, Spock!" Kirk exclaimed, bewilderment coloring his voice, unable to believe Spock had reacted so vehemently. "She's your girlfriend, you shouldn't treat her like that. She was just trying to be nice!"

"She is NOT my girlfriend, nor is she my mother, my yeoman, or my nurse!" Spock was practically shouting, something that set off serious alarm warnings in Kirk's head.

"Well you obviously haven't told her that, not to mention anyone else, or the damn doors, for that matter, since they let her walk on in to your quarters and didn't warn her you'd try to take her head off!" Spock had his hands curled into fists at his sides, his body trembling slightly. "Spock, what the hell is wrong? If you two are having issues, I can tell you there are better ways to break up with someone, assuming it's even necessary."

"You will cease to pry into my personal affairs, Captain, or I will surely break your neck!" The captain was shocked.

"Commander!" Kirk pulled out his best 'Captain's voice,' standing tall and glaring at his First Officer, who suddenly blinked a few times and looked down in what could almost have been sheepishness as he forcibly regained his control.

"Captain," he began haltingly, "I apologize. I…respectfully request a leave of absence on New Vulcan, effective immediately. We can be there in three days, or I can take a shuttle and rendezvous with the Bradbury, which is between the Enterprise and New Vulcan and en route there now."

"Spock, why do you know where the Brad— wait, how do you even know that? Nevermind; better yet, why do you want to go?"

"I wish to take leave among my own kind, Captain," Spock replied in a tone of barely restrained fury, his hands trembling again. "Is that not enough for you?"

"We've been serving together for what, three years now? You've never once asked for leave, not after Khan, not even after Nero!" He hesitated, gentling his voice, switching back from 'Captain Kirk' to just 'Jim'. "Spock…Spock, your entire planet was destroyed and your mother killed, but you didn't take leave even after the 'crisis' part was over," he said gently. "I can only assume, logically, that there's something gravely wrong, and I want to help. Talk to me, Spock; what's happened?"

"I need…rest, Cap— Jim," Spock said roughly, as though struggling greatly to produce the words, or perhaps to avoid saying more.

"Spock—"

"Please. I'm asking you, as my friend, Jim, to accept that answer."

The two men stared at each other, one golden-haired in a gold shirt with spots of red brightening his cheeks, his brows narrowed in studious concern, the other dark-haired in a blue shirt, a green tinge spreading on his face as he trembled slightly.

"We'll take you home, Spock," Kirk said finally. "Don't worry about taking the shuttle, the Enterprise can come back and finish surveying this planet afterward."

The tension in Spock's shoulders relaxed some, and he looked at Kirk with the Vulcan version of a grateful expression.

"Thank you, Captain," he said quietly, looking away.

"Anytime…just…Spock," Kirk said, tilting his head slightly to make sure he'd re-caught his friend's gaze.

"Yes, Captain?"

"I don't know what's going on, but I expect you to act like an officer on my ship. If another incident like this happens I'll be forced to confine you to quarters until we reach New Vulcan."

"Yes Captain."

"Good. Now…eat something, clean up that mess," he gestured to the spilled soup staining the wall, and the First Officer followed his gaze with a slight grimace, "and get Bones to check you out, okay?"

Spock looked at Kirk and opened his mouth with the obvious intent to protest, but Kirk wasn't having any of it.

"That last bit's an order, Spock. Just let him see if you're okay…and come talk to me if you need anything."

With that, Kirk left the room, frowning in concern as the door whooshed closed, blocking his view of the Vulcan.

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED.  
_

_(Not mine, sadly. Just writing for fun.)_


	2. Warp Eight and Spock's Wrath

"Jim," McCoy called after his captain as the younger man was retiring to his quarters for the day. "Jim!"

"Yes, Bones, what is it?" Kirk stopped and let his CMO catch up, frowning slightly at the look on the older man's face.

"Jim, we need to get Spock to New Vulcan!"

"I'm aware of that, Bones, we've been on our way there for several hours now."

"No, Jim, we need to get him there _now._"

Kirk paused in the hall, staring at his friend intently for a moment before heading directly for the nearest com-panel.

"Kirk to Bridge."

"Sulu here, Sir."

"Increase speed to New Vulcan to maximum warp."

There was a pause before Sulu replied in a slightly confused voice.

"Sir, we've been at warp 8 for three hours now—"

"—Aye, and I'd just come up here to tell ya we cannae take much longer of it, Captain!" Scotty broke in.

"I see. And who ordered the alteration?"

Another pause.

"Mr. Spock did, Captain. He commed the bridge and said he was relaying orders from you."

Kirk and McCoy shared a long look, frowns creasing both faces.

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu. Scotty, how fast can we go right now without putting the ship in danger?"

"I'd say about warp seven and a half, sir, maybe a wee bit more."

"Do it, Mr. Sulu. Kirk out." He turned to McCoy, having a silent, concerned conversation with his friend as he asked the computer to locate his first officer. "C'mon Bones; let's go find Spock," he said after ascertaining the Commander's location in one of the science labs.

Spock was breaking things.

The science lab was filled with shattered, sparking equipment and one terrified ensign cowering in the corner furthest from the com panel.

"This is the WORST report I have ever read!" Spock was shouting, waving half of a broken PADD around. "It is illogical, emotional, and filled with half-formed opinionated evaluations of the situation!"

"S-s-sir, it's not a report it's—"

"I do not CARE what it is, Ensign; nothing you do here on the Enterprise should ever be so sloppy!"

"Spock!" McCoy crossed to the irate First Officer and placed a hand on his shoulder — only to be grabbed and violently flipped to the floor, unconscious.

"Security to Science Lab Two!" Kirk said into the com panel before racing to stand between Spock and his other officers. Hands raised in a defensive posture — not that it would do any good against a half-Vulcan — Kirk tried to talk some sense into his First Officer. "Spock, Spock calm down. I don't know what's wrong, but I'm going to help you, okay?" Behind him McCoy stirred, and Kirk breathed a sigh of relief.

"Captain, what—?"

"Drop him!" Kirk shouted in reply to the security officer who'd just entered the lab as he pointed at Spock. The man's eyes widened for a moment, then took in the absolute devastation of the lab and the wild look on Spock's face.

He fired.

—

_TO BE CONTINUED._

_Uh-oh, looks like Spock's in trouble. I know there are a LOT of similarities to the original episode of Amok Time — it'll become its own story soon. Some things will have to stay the same; destroying Vulcan didn't change the Vulcan culture or biology, after all!_

_Also, I'm in the market for a beta - let me know if you'd like to help!_

_AAAAAAANNNNNNDDDDDD:_

**_HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY my American friends! Stay safe and remember that if you have veterans in your area, your bottle rockets and other fireworks might upset them. Be respectful of those who fought for our freedom!_**


	3. Bundle Him Off To Bed

Spock hit the floor with a graceful thud, landing much more softly than McCoy had earlier. Kirk relaxed slightly and nodded to the security officer.

"Thank you; keep him covered for now."

"Yes sir," was the slightly confused reply. Kirk turned and bent down to help the now-conscious McCoy to his feet.

"Y'alright Bones?" he asked.

"Fine, Jim. Damn hobgoblin's a menace." McCoy caught sight of Spock lying on the floor and blanched. "You shot him!?" he shouted at the security officer.

"He's just stunned, Bones; my order. I couldn't calm him down, and he'd knocked you flat out." McCoy started swearing under his breath as he bent down next to the Vulcan and began examining him.

"Ensign, what happened here?" Kirk asked the slightly-less-distraught man still standing in the far corner.

"I was working on an experiment when Mr. Spock walked in, Sir. He seemed fine at first, and then suddenly came over and snatched my PADD away—" he gestured at the shattered device now lying on the floor in two large pieces "—and after looking at it for a moment began practically screaming at me for producing 'inferior work'." The ensign paused. "Captain, Sir, it wasn't a report; it was my personal log, I swear!"

"It's all right, Ensign," Kirk consoled the young officer. "Mr. Spock's not feeling well, that's all. Head down to the Medbay and get checked out, then take a day and relax, all right?"

"Yes Sir," the man replied. "Thank you, Sir." He left the lab, circling around as far away from the downed Spock as he could.

"Bones?" Kirk asked, looking at the intense frown on his friend's face.

"He's not good, Jim, but there's really nothing I can do for him." He glanced up. "Best I can advise is to bundle him off into his own bed and keep him confined until we get to New Vulcan." Kirk gestured at the security officer who called for an anti-grav stretcher. Within minutes Spock was being escorted to his quarters by six more security officers, his Captain, and the CMO of the ship — and the rumor-mill was running rampant.

_Spock's been hurt._

_Spock's sick._

_Spock attacked an Ensign._

_Spock's confined to quarters._

_Spock got stunned by Security._

_What happened?_

_Why'd he do it?_

_Why are we going to New Vulcan?_

_What's going to happen to him?_

And, of course:

_Why isn't Uhura with him?_

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED._

_Did anybody think I'd actually hurt Spock? I hope not. :) I have a couple ideas on how poor Uhura's going to handle this…feel free to let me know what you think she would or should do! Also, if you really think I need help - I'm looking for someone to beta my Trek stuff. Interested?  
_

_(As always, I don't own them, and I think it's ridiculous that I have to say so…)_


	4. Star of Freedom

The corridors of Deck Five had never seemed ominous to Nyota before. Though her own quarters were located elsewhere, she had always felt comfortable in the passageways leading to Spock's cabin — hence the Captain finding her wandering those same halls in her pajamas the day before. Now, though, even in full uniform right after Alpha shift, when the ship's traffic was at its busiest, she found herself approaching the familiar door with trepidation in her step.

Spock was not a violent man — Vulcan…whatever — but she was terrified he'd attack her, something he'd never done before. It wasn't logical; it wasn't in his nature to harm her, because no matter how 'illogical' it may have been, Spock was always a caring, gentle soul behind the impassive exterior. Traumatizing that Ensign yesterday, coupled with striking McCoy, indicated that something was terribly wrong with her boyfriend.

Remembering her last attempt to help him and how poorly that had gone — she still had no idea why he was so angry with her — made her so uneasy that she almost turned around and left instead of approaching his door.

_No._ He was Spock, her boyfriend, her friend, her superior officer — and she loved him. She was determined to help him, even if he didn't want it, or just didn't want it from her.

Courage gathered, she knocked on the door softly, foregoing the buzz-pad on the side. It was entirely too loud, if one was inside the room trying to rest, and she didn't want to disturb Spock if he was meditating or sleeping.

"Enter," his voice came through the door quietly. The calmness of his tone gave her courage and she stepped into the room, her heart kicking up a beat as the door slid closed behind her, leaving her in a dark, hot room with potentially the most dangerous individual on the ship.

She'd never been afraid of Spock before, but now, below the infernally too-short skirt of her uniform, she swore her knees were knocking.

"Nyota…" He spoke from just beside her, making her jump; she hadn't realized he was so close. His hand stretched out to touch her cheek and she flinched before she could stop herself. A slight frown creased his brow and she flushed, but he didn't move away, instead gently resting his long fingers on her face. Where once the touch would have thrilled her, it now sent icy shudders down her spine. "I am…sorry, Nyota," Spock continued, a trace of sadness flickering in his dark eyes. She smiled hesitantly, for though this was Spock, somehow it also _wasn't_ Spock.

"It's okay," she soothed. "It's okay, just…tell me what happened? What's wrong?" She shifted, thinking to bring her hands up to his cheeks, but hesitating at touching the oh-so expressive face before her. Her fingers trembled, and she reverted to the one question she was certain he could answer. "What do you need?"

He stepped closer, fully occupying her space, something that before would have brought her joy, but now felt uncomfortable and threatening.

"What do I need…" the words trailed off in a murmur, as though he were translating the phrase, deciphering it. "What is it that I need?" Speaking more to himself than to her, his fingers slid down her cheek, shifting into a gesture that she recognized, but had never felt.

"Spock?" The thought of melding with him filled her with longing, desire, fear, and shame. She'd wanted this, wanted that kind of bond with him for a long time, but it was not something the half-Vulcan shared easily. He was more reserved regarding his mind than most Vulcans, and that was saying something. She both longed for the touch, and hated that it had taken his current…illness, for lack of a better word, to bring him to offer it.

"It is…illogical…to try and be other than what we are, yes, Nyota?" he asked, finally looking directly at her. His gaze was raw, bleeding, and it made her ache as though all the organs inside her had been taken away.

"I suppose so," she gasped. "Why?"

"Logic is rooted in desire, is it not? It is dependent on goals; a wolf's logic is madness to the goose."

"Um…" Nyota was not an individual often reduced to the use of monosyllabic vocalizations of confusion; 'um' was a word in her vocabulary mainly because of the annoying overuse of it by others. "Spock, what's with you?" The fingers on her face pressed harder and she shifted back a step, finding herself pressed to the door which alarmingly did not open in response to her close proximity.

"Nyota…Nyota Uhura. Star of Freedom. Of course you know the meaning of your name? Such a beautiful name…you are my star. My Star. I feel free with you, my Star. You make me feel free…" Spock's other hand found her upper arm and squeezed, the bruising pressure of it less frightening than the liberal expression of emotion pouring from her boyfriend in visage, action, and word.

She gasped, and the sound seemed to trigger something in the half-Vulcan, who suddenly released her and took several steps backward.

"Nyota," he said as though surprised to find her there.

"Yes, Spock. Are you…are you okay?"

"I am…unwell."

"I noticed," she said, expecting a disparaging reply gently reprimanding her for asking a question to which she had already observed the answer. None came. "Can I get you anything?" she asked to fill the silence.

Spock's mouth worked in reply as though fighting not to say something, and the thought _nothing you can give_ flitted across the back of her mind.

"Perhaps…if you would not mind…" she stepped closer to him, smiling at him in concern, trying to reassure him — trying to hide her fear.

"Whatever you need, just ask." If anyone had ever thought she didn't trust Spock implicitly, being a fly on the wall just then would have cured them of that delusion. Nyota had no idea what kind of reply Spock would give her, but she offered, banking on what she knew of him, believing that he wouldn't force anything from her.

And he didn't.

"If you would make me more Plomeek soup, I would find that most agreeable," he said simply, almost plaintively. The lost-little-boy look hiding behind his eyes almost undid her, and this time Nyota found _her_ mouth working soundlessly, not having expected such a tiny request.

"All right…" she turned away, and this time when she approached it the door opened to let her pass. She'd have to ask him about that — when he was feeling better. "I'll be back soon.

Uhura left, feeling both a little lighter and a little heavier, for though Spock was no longer raging, he certainly wasn't himself. Though she was proud of herself for accomplishing something, for reaching out to him and having it pay off, she still worried that there was something more he needed, some kind of help that she wasn't able to offer.

Spock just stood there, hands at his sides, brow furrowed in a very un-Vulcan expression of happiness. His fingers trembled, the minuscule quakes traveling through his whole body until he vibrated with repressed grief — for what he truly wanted of Nyota, he knew she simply could not give.

—

TO BE CONTINUED (Also, not mine).

_SO, thanks everybody for hanging in there through my dry spell of updates. I got busy with the BF's family, then my family, then my computer died (I'm borrowing one). I'm 'back,' though I'll start working a second job in two weeks, so I may post more sporadically come then._

_As always, thanks to everyone who reads and reviews. I really want to know what you think about my stories, and your feedback influences the content immensely. Tell me what you like, what you don't like, what you want to see happen, any ideas you have. Throw plot tribbles at my head!_

_And be very, VERY grateful to my new beta _**DLB48. **_She is wonderful and lovely and probably doubled the word-count of this chapter while giving it much more oomph and an extra dose of clarity._

_Anyway, enjoy!_


	5. The Slap

The typical easy camaraderie of the bridge crew was conspicuously missing as they uneasily endured the the remaining time to New Vulcan. The absence of Spock from the bridge made the sense of wrongness even more acute — to the dismay of the poor science officer who'd taken over his station. Kirk had taken her aside at one point to assure her that her performance was fine; Alpha shift simply wasn't the same without Commander Spock.

The Captain almost felt guilty. His first responsibility was always to his crew, ensuring their safety and general well-being Unfortunately that involved _not_ exposing them to potential dangers, and even more unfortunately Spock currently qualified as dangerous. Technically, given his assault on McCoy, he should be in the brig pending Court Martial, but Kirk (wanting to save his friend's dignity) had instead confined him to quarters pending their arrival at the planet.

Not that Spock seemed to mind.

The First Officer had embraced his solitude, demanding that only Jim, Nyota, and (surprisingly) McCoy be allowed to enter his quarters — and even then only for a few minutes at a time. Spock even made a point of staying as far away from them as physically possible when they were in his cabin, keeping to the far end of the room and insisting that they did the same.

What little reassuring signs they saw would disappear quickly: Nyota was encouraged by Spock eating the bowl of soup she'd brought, but the relief was replaced by a deep sense of hurt when he stopped letting her in his quarters without an escort. The part of her that was unsettled and slightly afraid of him given his actions the last time she'd been alone with him understood the precaution; the rest of her simply felt slapped across the face.

McCoy actually almost smiled when he found out Spock was eating, the elation fading fast as he observed that the soup was the only thing he would eat — and only in small portions each day. He increased his check-ups of the Vulcan to every five hours, often having to hypo the agitated First Officer with anything from sedatives to concentrated nutrients, depending on what he found.

Time was running out; Spock had lost several pounds since the whole thing began, and as much as the doctor in McCoy analyzed and diagnosed and generally fussed over his patient, the man in him anguished over the possibility of losing his friend.

Not that he would ever say that.

The tension running high on the bridge spread slowly through the whole ship, the anxious-but-excited feeling infusing everyone. It was as though the entire crew held their collective breaths as the Enterprise entered into communications range of the planet, hoping desperately that Spock would finally get whatever help he needed and things could return to normal. No one would relax until they had, so when Kirk called Spock up to the bridge, the attending officers were more than a little uneasy.

"Hail the planet, please, Lieutenant," Kirk said once Spock had arrived. The individual brought up on the screen was not a communications officer for the planet as expected; instead they saw a stunning Vulcan woman in a simple elegant gown with carefully done-up hair.

"Spock," she said solemnly. "Parted from me and never parted; never and always touching and touched. We meet at the appointed place."

"T'Pring," he replied with equal solemnity. "Parted from me and never parted; never and always touching and touched. I await you."

The communication cut off, and the entire bridge was silent, realizing they'd just witnessed one of the rituals of a dying culture. The momentousness of the occasion was broken by Carol.

"Mr. Spock," she said slowly. "Who was that?"

Staring directly ahead at the blank viewscreen Spock replied:

"My wife," He said. There was a slight hesitation in the way he said 'wife,' and if one looked closely they would've seen his eyes narrow just slightly and the hands clasped behind his back squeeze tighter.

Various sounds of disbelief and shock spread across the bridge, followed by a cold, expectant silence as all eyes turned to the communications station. Uhura was slowly rising from her seat, fury etched plainly across her features.

"Uhura," Kirk warned as she stalked up to Spock. He turned to face her, his expression blank.

"Nyota—"

A resounding slap echoed off the bulkheads, the blow snapping Spock's head to one side, though his feet remained solidly planted on the deck.

"Lieutenant!" Kirk jumped to stand between the two of them, gaze flicking from Uhura's too-bright eyes to the green flush spreading across Spock's cheek. "Stand down and step back." She retreated, and Kirk looked to his First Officer. "I _really_ hate to do this, but I have to ask: Commander, do you intend to pursue charges against the Lieutenant for striking a superior officer?" The bridge crew was slightly aghast, but no one could deny the responsibility the Captain had to deal with the situation. The slap happened while both were on duty, in full uniform, on the bridge and in front of the entire command crew (barring Scotty). It wasn't something Kirk could ignore.

Spock blinked a few times before replying, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts.

"No Sir, I do not, on the grounds that I believe I 'had it coming' as you might say."

"Well, that'll make one hell of a note in the log. Lieutenant," Kirk said, turning back to Uhura, "you are hereby confined to quarters during your off hours until further notice, and I want it absolutely clear; no one is in any way to strike or injure a superior officer — or _any_ crewmember, for that matter — unless their own health and safety is in danger. Am I understood?"

"Yes Sir," she replied, turning smartly on her heel and returning to her seat. Kirk saw her glance over at Carol, who gave the communications officer a look that seemed entirely supportive of her actions.

Kirk couldn't blame her.

Turning to Spock, he bottled off the fury he felt toward his First Officer for the moment. He'd get after the Vulcan later for actually _starting_ a crazy love triangle, let alone being part of one; for now, he had to make sure the guy stayed alive to handle the fall out.

"Sulu, you have the bridge," he said.

"Aye Sir."

"How does this work, Mr. Spock?" Kirk asked as he led the Vulcan into the turbolift, Bones following behind. "Are there any particular protocols we need to follow?"

"No, Captain, however I would like to make a request."

"Go for it," he replied warily.

"Much like in a Terran wedding, it is traditional that the couple are accompanied to the ceremony by their friends. I would like to request that you stand with me during this event."

Even through his disgust at Spock's treatment of Uhura — and his wife — Kirk couldn't deny that Spock was one of his best friends, and that wasn't going to change anytime soon, no matter how angry Kirk got.

"I would be honored, Commander." McCoy huffed from beside them.

"Well, I suppose I'll be headed back to the Medbay, then, if ya—"

"Leonard." It wasn't often that Spock used anyone's first name, and it was even more rare for that name to be the doctor's.

"Yeah?" The (slightly shocked) southern gentleman replied.

"I would ask that you stand with me as well."

Kirk looked on in amusement as confusion, happiness and embarrassment mixed together in an odd expression on McCoy face. Momentarily forgetting his anger at Spock, he watched as McCoy pulled himself together and fixed a serious look on the half-Vulcan.

"I wouldn't miss it, Spock" he stated sincerely.

"Thank you," The simple tone of Spock's reply almost eased the oddly apprehensive feeling his friends felt about their impending role in the upcoming ceremony.

But not quite.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED:

_**I'm sorry this chapter is more-or-less a rewrite of the same scene in TOS. There really wasn't much other choice, as though the planet is gone, the culture is the same, so I figured this particular scene wouldn't have been affected by the changes in the universe as much — except that slap. Boy, it almost makes you feel sorry for Spock, huh? XD**_

_I feel it is no longer necessary after 5 chapters to remind everyone who already knows that I don't own anything that I don't own anything. So I shall desist after this final reminder that no, I don't own them, I'm not getting paid, etc._

_Letting you guys know that I'm going through some existential crises — if they cause delays or are detrimental to the stories, I apologize. If they bleed through and you like what they do to my little tales, at least something good came out of it._

_I'm curious: My stargate fanfics produce more in the way of reviews than my Trek ones, but 'Gate gets less readers. Are Trekkies/Trekkers simply less vocal, or is my Trek writing not as good? If you read both fandoms, do let me know what you think, and how I can improve._

_Reviewer G (Guest) — Thanks, I'm glad you like it! It's nice to know that even though nothing really different is happening yet that you're 'sucked in'. :)_

_Reviewer KD (Guest) — I do intend to do so. :)_


	6. New Vulcan

The planet certainly didn't _look_ like Vulcan; the sand was golden instead of red and the ground was covered with smooth dunes instead of craggy rock formations. It _felt_ like Vulcan, though — or, at least it felt like Spock's quarters — if a bit more humid.

Waiting for them when they beamed down were Ambassadors Spock and Sarek. Sarek's face was a blank mask, but the other Ambassador's expression was almost anxious, something Kirk noticed immediately.

"Something wrong, Ambassador Selek?" he asked, using the name Spock had adopted in the altered universe.

"Outsiders are not privy to the sacred rituals of our race, except for those few who have taken part in them," Sarek replied before Selek could speak. His tone was as controlled as his face, but something about the sharpness of each word conveyed a very real anger at the presence of Kirk and McCoy.

Selek's frown increased slightly, his eyebrows furrowing just a smidgen. Kirk got the distinct impression that the Vulcan was concerned about something else entirely. He was about to inquire further when Spock came to their defense.

"I invited them to stand with me, Father," Spock said. "It is my right to do so."

Sarek relaxed minutely, the space around him seeming suddenly less hostile, though Selek appeared no less uneasy.

"Very well then," Sarek said. "Spock, before the ceremony can commence, there are things you must know."

"Father?" Spock had never sounded quite so confused, and it worried Kirk and McCoy, especially given the seriously uncomfortable expressions on the Ambassador's faces — an unusual thing in and of itself.

"T'Pring bonded with another during your absence. Not a mating bond, obviously, as she was already bonded in such a way to you, but there was a bond, and it was both deep and strong. Her…companion perished with our planet, and the loss of him has left her quite…"

"Emotional," Selek supplied. "It is hoped that completing the mating bond with you will help restore her to herself, though no one will force you to do so, given the inherent risk to your own mind."

Spock was silent for several minutes, and the weight of the news hung in the air around McCoy and the Captain, keeping them silent as well.

They wanted to speak, however. McCoy, for all his bickering with the Vulcan, had no wish to see the…man's mind destroyed. It was a unique and precious thing, something he admired in his (unadmitted) friend.

Kirk was fuming internally, feeling certain that Sarek was guilt-tripping Spock into bonding with T'Pring. Concern that his First Officer would choose to stay on the colony made his heart squeeze in his chest; nothing would be the same without him.

I wish to proceed," Spock said finally. The edge of reluctance and resignation in his voice was ignored by the other Vulcans, but not by his friends.

"Spock," Kirk said, moving into his First Officer's line of sight. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

A pause, during which the Captain's skin nearly crawled with some unnameable sense of dread.

"Yes."

"Now hold on, I don't understand, Spock," McCoy said. "What's all this about bonding? Didin't you say you're already married to her?"

Spock's posture straightened slightly, as though he were giving a lecture — or disciplining a cheating cadet.

"Our parents arranged our marriage when I was seven Vulcan years old, and, as is traditional, we formed a telepathic link to each other for the purpose of drawing us together when the Time came. There is no human equivalent; it is more than an engagement, but less than a marriage."

"And bonding with T'Pring will, what, be like replacing an amputated limb with a new one?"

"That is a gross oversimplification, but the priciple is similar, yes."

"What's the risk to you?" Kirk wanted to know.

"T'Pring's distress could be transferred to me, though it is unlikely."

It wasn't like Spock to not give down-to-the-thousandth calculations of events, and the deviation concerned the Captain.

"I see," he said.

Sarek exhaled through his nose, barely loud enough to hear, turned, and walked away. The two Spocks raised a single eyebrow in unison at the abrupt manner of ending the conversation and followed him, leaving Kirk and McCoy to shake off the surreal event and catch up.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED:**

_Okay, this is a bland chapter, sorry about that. I'll work on making the next ones better — and the real twist between this tale and TOS shows up next chapter. Please bear with me — I just lost my aunt, on top of all the other things going on._

_I'm not someone who usually posts things like this comment, but please do review and let me know what you'd like to see, what you don't want to see, what you think you will or won't see, etc. Right now the influx of ideas will probably go a long way toward helping me write — because I'm rather empty right now with all the grief and stress. I need my cathartic exercise, but I can't quite get there on my own. You guys inspire me like nothing else, so please; tell me what this story needs for you to enjoy it, help me brainstorm and take a bit of the load off my shoulders. The rest of this story will be endlessly dedicated to those of you who do._

_Also, please keep my family in your thoughts and prayers right now._

—_Marie_


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